Moribund
by rocketships-and-radios1
Summary: The Walking Dead told from the perspective of survivors in the UK, specifically Manchester. Due to the lower crime and smaller death rate in comparison to the USA, the British military has managed to protect major city centers and safe zones for over a month, but it cannot keep the scarred minds of the survivors from succumbing to their psychological plights.


**Moribund **

**AN: Yet another rewrite of my story "The Post Mortem Happening", enjoy and please review! **

We had been hoarded into the refugee centre whilst the military tried to sort out the mess. Our "allies" across the pond had gone dark at least two weeks ago, their powerful military they often boasted about faced a threat it apparently couldn't quite take care of. Capable of reducing cities to rubble, but unable to confront some putrid, shambling corpses, that did nothing but eat. At least we seemed to be doing better, though all there was to hear was the ceaseless din of distant gunfire and artillery bombardment which created a dark cloud of smoke that loomed over the land. The noise replaced the usual bustling activity of Manchester - the sound of busy commuters rushing to work, traffic horns blaring and maybe the odd musician on the street corner - the things that I took for granted, and was shocked to find myself yearning for. All of that was replaced by somewhat homely, yet unattractive cramped tents, groups of distressed mourning survivors surrounded by an aroma of melancholy, and military personnel rushing back and forth, tending to the sick or carrying out their standard procedures. More and more people arrived every day, most looking traumatised, desolate, void of hope - probably like we had when we first arrived. A select few were actually re-united with family, displaying some form of exuberance, but it was short-lived. What was left of our morale was promptly replaced with discomposure - it felt as if a thick, cold dour blanket of gloom had been forced upon us, suffocating what remained of our happiness, even though it was nearing late summertime. Who knew that the "apocalypse" would be so damned depressing? You'd hear the odd person who longed for the end of civilised society just for the opportunity to do things without facing the consequence; smashing windows, setting fire to cars, stealing valuable items, and how exhilarating and empowering it would feel. How wrong they were.

I had to force myself to wake up every morning with a strong mental push, though its effect was weakening each day. Mint was inconsolable, and simply wasted the days moping in his bunk. He refused to converse most of the time, and when he did it was disobliging and tiresome. Charlie tried to keep his spirits up, after all, he had his eight year old sister, Abigail, to take care of - he had no choice. As time passed, conflicts arose within the refugee centre as the tension insidiously increased - supplies were being used up fast, and people were losing the will to live, with many attempted suicides. Even the soldiers were losing morale, and were becoming alarmingly apprehensive. We were waiting to be evacuated, just like the thousands of others in the camp. There were growing crowds of walkers migrating beyond the barbed fences that moaned incessantly, which only exacerbated our psychological plight.

"Charlie?" Abigail called, bringing me out of my trance. I was resting on my bunk, staring at the vomit yellow colour of the tent.

"Yeah?" he replied, rubbing his eyes.

"Why can't we go home?"

"Because..." he said impatiently, but took a deep breath to regain his composure," because it's still dangerous. We need to wait until... the sick people are, uh, helped."

"But why is there sick people?" she asked innocently. I couldn't help but feel a lump in my throat at the thought of such a sweet, naive child in a world like this. I respected Charlie a lot - he was always good with his sister and still remained to this day, where there wasn't any hope. I shifted my position so I was facing the tent wall to prevent anyone from noticing me nearly tearing up. I felt the bunk move as Mint sat upright beneath me.

"Because..." Charlie paused, "uhm... you know, things like this happen. Do you remember when your school was called off because of swine flu?" he asked. Abigail nodded. "It's like that, they're keeping the healthy people away from the sick people, so we don't get infected." he continued reassuringly.

"Except swine flu didn't make dead people walk." Mint muttered. Abigail apparently heard him, and showed a look of pure terror on her face. Just as she was close to tears, Charlie intervened. "Oh, Abi, he didn't mean that..."

If I was asleep, I would have mistaken Abigail's wails for a siren. Charlie released a sigh of frustration, hugging his sister and glaring at Mint.

"What? It's true, isn't it? No point denying it. Dead corpses are walking around and tearing people apart..."

"Mint, just shut up already!" I yelled to which he scoffed.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence between us, with the exception of Abigail's sobs. Minutes passed, and Charlie was still trying to comfort her in any way he could; her teddy, a picture of their parents, a child lullaby. After at least fifteen minutes, her sobs became occasional sniffles, and finally a watery half-smile.

"I'm gonna go outside for some fresh air." I said, climbing down the bunk and out of the tent. Outside, people were milling around, silent, gazing into space, or chatting quietly with each other. There were a couple of armed guards patrolling the section, others probably resting in their tents. I pulled up my hood over my hair, which was tied back. Before the outbreak, the most distinctive feature of us three was our hair - after the mess, there was no electricity, which meant no showers, no hair straighteners, and there was no point in styling it anymore, anyway.

The only pleasant view I had was of the night sky; there was less smoke compared to early days, but I could actually make out the stars this time. There was hardly any light pollution after-all, with only emergency lighting running from generators rather than the entire city center being lit up as it usually was before the outbreak.

I walked passed an elderly couple, hearing something about "sin and disobeying God's will." As much as I disbelieved, this did all seem "Biblical" in a sense, with the resurrection of the dead. Mint wasn't a practicing Christian, but he still believed, and suggested the idea when we arrived at the camp, that "God had resurrected the dead to punish us for our sins", and there was "no scientific explanation for it, so it must be supernatural". Charlie wasn't convinced in the slightest, and thought it was irrational to place his bets on a supernatural explanation just because of the absence of a scientific one. Me? I sort of agreed, but living dead people? The idea was never even considered plausible by any rational mind, yet it happened.

I heard the gate to our section being opened; a female solider, the same one who welcomed us when we arrived, was escorting a family of five inside. They all looked traumatised and observed the area with some relief. Us four did the same thing. We had gone through hell to get here, and were on edge after witnessing people being ripped apart and shot, and so on, that we were surprised to find some solace.

The soldier was reading a list that she grasped within her hands, and then approached me.

"You're Hassan, correct? Tent 12?" she asked.

"Yeah." I replied, pulling my hood further over my head.

"We don't have a sufficient amount of tents to accommodate the large number of survivors, therefore we're going to make arrangements, and your tent, tent 12, has space for at least two more."

"Oh... um, yeah, okay." I replied, unsure of how to reply.

"Mum, dad, I'll stay with Jess, you should stay with Rosie." suggested a tall, muscular boy with short dark brown hair, who must have been in his twenties at least. His t-shirt revealed his mildly tanned skin. The girl who I presumed to be Jess must have been around our age, sharing a height close to mine and had long dark hair tied back. She had a striking resemblance to who I assumed was her mother. Their little girl looked around Abigail's age, which meant that having a friend may distract Abigail from what was happening beyond the barbed wire fences and military barricades.

"Come find us next morning, Dan." the dad said, after sharing their temporary goodbyes.

"I'll escort you to your tent." the solider said to the parents and their daughter. I was left with... _Dan, was it? Damn it I forgot_. I was always awkward with strangers.

"Uh.. hi." I greeted, with a half-hearted wave.

"Hey, I'm Dan." he said, reaching out his hand_. So his name is Dan._ I thought as I shook his hand.

"I'm Hassan, but people just call me H... usually." I replied, nodding to Jess, then leading them to our tent.

"How long have you been here?" he asked.

"Erm, around - 3 weeks? I'm not exactly sure - lost count."

"So I gather that it's safe here?" he pressed.

"Yeah, thankfully." He sighed in relief. "I'm guessing you've had it rough then?"

"Oh yeah." he nodded. "We were at a bus station, and we had to stay overnight 'cos some of the buses didn't return. It turns out that these two wierdos there made a suicide pact, and decided to off themselves the same night. God it was horrible."

"So, it's true then?" I asked, my suspicions confirmed.

"What?"

"That you come back no matter what?"

"I'm pretty sure." Dan answered. "They injected us with a 'vaccine' when we came in. I know it's load of bullshit, though. The 'vaccine' is to stop an infection from spreading to the camp, not bites or turning."

"How did you find out?" I asked, feeling more comfortable as he was strangely easy to talk to. Jess remained quiet though, listening to the conversation.

"Me and my dad were at a shopping centre a day after the broadcast , gathering any supplies we could because they were letting us take what we wanted. But these two thugs started causing trouble, and some military personnel were passing by and killed them. After a few minutes we were still loading the trolley with whatever we could, and saw the same guys chewing on this old woman on the floor. They had no bites or scratches - their clothing was way too thick. That's why I first found out." he replied. "How about you?"

"Well it was Charlie who speculated it - he was at a hospital during when this was all starting, and noticed that some of the dead had no bites, scratches, bloodstains or anything to indicate any contact with the walkers, and he thought it was no coincidence that things had gone bad so fast, so anyone who died recently would come back. After all, it had to start with a recently deceased corpse coming back before killing others, right? And what you just told me, about the suicide thing, it means it's true."

"It's gonna take a while to sort this out." he said.

I pushed aside the flaps of the tent and entered.

"Guys, we've got some new people with us, uhm, Dan and Jess." I introduced them. Abigail was already fast asleep. Mint suddenly sat upright in his bunk, and Charlie stood up, shaking Dan's hand.

"I'm Charlie, that's my sister Abigail." he greeted, smiling. He was generally the more socially co-operative out of us three, with Mint not far behind. "And that is..."

"Mint." Mint said before Charlie could. "I'm Mint." he re-iterated, the corners of his lips rotating slightly to form... a smile? It had been a while since he had displayed any form of happiness. Dan placed his large backpack on his bunk, and Jess followed.

"They're gonna be staying with us, until... well however long it takes." I added.

"Have you just arrived?" Charlie asked.

"Well, kind of – we had to go through some 'procedures' before we were allowed in." Dan replied.

"Same with us." said Charlie. The two continued to make some small talk, so I went over to my bunk. I found Mint's behaviour rather strange. He changed from being a miserable little git to... well, sort of smiling. He showed a glimpse of his pre-apocalyptic state. I wasn't complaining; no more constant pessimistic retorts and moping around, hopefully.

After a bit, Dan was telling us about his experience during the first few days, about how their dog "Otis" was torn apart by a group of walkers in their front garden, and how shop staff were beaten and killed whilst their stock was looted. But then he lightened the mood by reminiscing, sharing his memories of the "good times". For the first time since we arrived, we went to sleep on a happy note.


End file.
